


Playing With Fire (Whilst The Ice-Man Waits)

by TheAlphaFox



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Dark, Death Threats, F/M, Moriarty Returns, Mycroft Runs the World, Mycroft or Moriarty?, Not What It Looks Like, Poor Life Choices, Treachery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlphaFox/pseuds/TheAlphaFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here goes nothing...</p>
<p>Imagine a world where you have to choose between killing Mycroft and killing Moriarty? A world where you love James with everything you have, but Mycroft has saved you from yourself? A world where two psychopaths have captured your heart when you're still not sure if you have one?</p>
<p>Or the one where you're an assassin, and James finds you again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing With Fire (Whilst The Ice-Man Waits)

Standing in the dark shadows of a condemned block of flats, I tap my heels lightly against the car park asphalt. There is nobody here but me and an old acquaintance, and yet I am afraid of what might happen. I am armed to the teeth, ready to kill him, and there is still a small part of me that fears him.

"So this is how you are now?" he says in disgust.   
"I..."  
"You were better when you were with me. You had more confidence. You looked happier. Prettier. Does he choose your clothes?"  
"Yes, sometimes... I..."  
"I see what this is. He... Domesticated you. My little poppet, and he's ruined you." 

He almost spits the word, "domesticated" becoming a sinful slur against his perfectly curved lips. Apparently he liked me better wild.

I gasp, the accusation cutting deep, and suddenly I can't help wanting to dash away and rip out someone's throat with my bare hands, just to prove that I'm not a household pet, no easily controlled mouth-piece. I'm a feral monster who really should not be crossed. I need to be. 

Hell, I want to be.

In an instant, I see it for what my life is now. Dull, humdrum, town living with a man who neither respects nor particularly cares for me. I work hard, I play little, and although I'd always thought I liked my job I now find myself wishing I could go back to the days before now when I was a merciless, feared mercenary with nothing to lose and a trembling world at my feet.

The betraying words are out before I can think to hide them away.

"Then make me wild again. Please. I want to remember who I am. You're right, he's tried to make me controllable so that he can order me around. Give me your orders to follow instead and make me a monster. I want to feel the ice again. Let me kill for you. Please."

He looks at me almost amusedly, dark head tilted to the side slightly as he contemplates my outburst. 

"I see... You want to be mine again? You're tired of the suburban do-gooder lifestyle?"  
"Yes. Yes, oh, God, yes!"  
The reply is sinister, cruel and everything I need. "This might take some work. He's totally destroyed you."  
"I learn quickly."  
"I remember."  
"Please."  
"Who do you belong to?" 

I look him up and down, taking in the reptilian eyes, pale skin, tailored black suit and neatly combed raven hair. Part of me wants to kiss him right there and then, but I doubt we'll ever go back to that. Serving him will be enough for me.

"James Moriarty."  
"What's that, poppet?" He smirks at me, enjoying the moment of extreme power.  
"I belong to you, Sir."  
"That's right. Never forget that, or you'll be sorry."  
"I won't, Sir." I swear passionately.  
"You can stay where you are for now, then. I think that you'll be very useful at the right hand of the most powerful man in the country." he says.  
"Yes, Sir. To hear is to obey."

He likes that little addition, giggling maniacally as I bow my head to him. "Run along then, poppet. Go and find out some interesting information for me. And if you're good, you can slit Mycroft Holmes's throat for me when I'm done with him."  
"Thank you, Sir." I whisper reverently, like a devout nun to her God, the only person in her life she can worship. The one who gives her a purpose.

And with that, I melt into the shadows, with a small, calculating smile resting once more upon my face.

I have my options now, I think, proud of how well I have played this. I could go home now and tell Mycroft everything I've done tonight, tell him I did it to gain leverage, and bring James down from within his own network. Or I could not tell Mycroft, do as James tells me, and kill him afterwards because he tried to crush my spirits and make me a dumb, tame beast. 

I hate them both, and yet I love them both. Deep in my heart of hearts I know that I will never really choose. But that's okay.

Neither of them can ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked that, cubs! Please comment and let me know what you thought... Again with the dark Sherlock. I'm just in that kind of mood, I suppose. If you'd like to read more, let me know, and I can sort out another chapter.
> 
> Kudos makes a certain vixen very happy... Hint hint :)
> 
> Love you all, and I'll see you soon!


End file.
